


It's Not Technically Blood Magic

by Topogo



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bloodborne Fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topogo/pseuds/Topogo
Summary: Just a take on if The Hunter became The Inquisitor.





	1. Oh Thedas, Have Mercy on the Poor Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> This is legit the first fanfic I think I've ever written? So I'm sure I've botched a lot of stuff lol. I just thought this was an interesting concept and no one had done a fanfic of these two series together yet, so I thought why not me? Not sure how many more chapters I'll add, if any, still figuring out how to explore the blood magic vs yharnam blood thing properly. Do tell me if anything sounds wonky please. I was pretty unsure of some sections.
> 
> Thanks for reading in advance :)

The cold wakes her up.

It isn’t quite like Cainhurst, not as raw with its chill, but it’s familiar.

Lifting her head takes some doing, it feel hollow yet heavy at the same time and its taking the rest of her senses longer than she’d like to catch up. 

The Hunter is in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by more people than she’s seen maybe ever. Beasts don't count. They seem fully human but are aggressive enough towards her to be trapping her in a wall of swords, a very unsubtle threat should she try and move. She couldn’t even if she wanted to, they’ve tied her up very well to the ground with something metal. Their armor looks nothing like she’s ever seen. Not even in Cainhurst. The style looks more similar to Alfred and his executioners, but that can't be. All the Executioners are dead. Alfred is especially dead, she made it sure of that herself. 

She hopes she's right. Otherwise... well... she doubts these Executioners would be overly fond of a Vileblood.

Her musing is cut short as the doors to the room swing open. She only then notices how large the room actually is, how intact everything here is. It reminds her vaguely of the Lecture Building, only more barren.

Two distinct figures march towards her, tension clear in their eyes and shoulders. Only one wears armor, the other seem to be garbed in light purple robes. Religious garb? Briefly The Hunter thinks back to Amelia, but the colors are wrong. Not bright enough. She isn’t begging on the floor in a desperate mantra as her face painfully stretches to impossible dimensions. Bright white, yet dirty, fur. Sharp jutting fangs, horns gnarling on her head. A great keening yowl as the fire mercilessly engulfs her body. She never did understand why the beast clung so desperately to the pendant. The thoughts are briefly banished as one of the two women, the angrier one with short hair, shoves her face her her own and speaks to her.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you right now?” 

The armored woman is seething. Her companion is merely observing it seems like, but her eyes are no less cold and angry. Briefly, The Hunter thinks of what she could have done to warrant such malice. Many beasts have died by her hand but she has saved every person who still clung to even a tiny bit of their humanity. She tried to anyways. Even if anyone had lived who she had wronged, this is so much effort for a simple revenge kill. Time and energy are both so precious in Yharnam, why waste them like this? Or perhaps they think she’s a beast? But beasts don’t hold knowledge. They retain nothing of their former humanity, there would be no purpose to this. It would be more worthwhile to just burn her, wouldn't it?

She’s scrabbling for any explanation, grasping at anything to help her understand what is happening here, but she’s taking too long and her new companions don’t appear pleased with that.

“The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

The armored woman punctuates her last word with a sneer, bringing her face closer than before. Effective to be sure, but the action loses some of its effect as The Hunter focuses on her words and her thoughts become more jumbled. 

Conclave? Also what did she mean by everyone? Were there even more people here? She tries again to recall something to help her make sense of this situation but there’s nothing. This is worrying. For all the ways The Hunter excels at quelling beasts, she’s not as skilled at besting conversations. The way these two women glare at her with open malice, yet devoid of any bestial scourge, makes her oddly anxious. 

The two women become more agitated. All her thinking has made her lose time for a proper response again. Best not to make a pattern of this. 

She sees the armored woman lunge for her hand but she cannot evade it, her body bound as it is to the ground. 

“Explain this”, the armored woman ground out, brandishing the glowing hand at The Hunter’s face.

While she feels very stupid for not noticing her own hand glowing such an unsightly green color, she does her best to shake out even more surprise and confusion. She cannot afford to let these things paralyze her again. Her captors cannot have much patience left. She cannot explain her hand, but this is not the first time she’s dealt with something eldritch. Surely she'll find out at some point. For now, she does not know the answer, but she needs to say something for sure this time.

“I don’t know what this is either, it wasn’t there before”, she manages to breathe out.

“You’re lying!”, the woman snarls, tossing the Hunter’s hand out of her grip in anger. She raises a hand, but the hooded woman stops observing and reaches out to her companion, halting her before she could strike.

“We need her Cassandra”

Now that was worryingly familiar. Aggravating too, The Hunter’s no less scared but definitely more annoyed now. She needs answers too.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening here”, she calls out. 

The two women turn their attention back on her, but this time, the hooded one is the one to address her.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

Granted, The Hunter did not ask a question, but it almost feels like her confusion and inquiry are being actively brushed off. Even if this woman wasn’t with the Healing Church, she certainly was acting the part through sidestepping her questions alone.

“How what began? I don’t know where I am or who you are. Whatever you want me to remember I can’t.” She tries not to sound exasperated. 

The two women look at each other briefly, then Cassandra hauls The Hunter to her feet roughly.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”, she addresses her companion as she tugs the manacles off of The Hunter's hands, replacing them quickly with rope. The Hunter eyes the metal and rope, they seems clean and free of blood and rust. She has no exit point and cannot reach her weapons. No point in fighting when they won’t kill her yet. She’d like some answers however.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Her captor looks her in the eyes briefly.

“It will be easier to show you”, and with that The Hunter is hauled through the open doors into the unfamiliar brightness.


	2. Another Apocalypse, but it's Day Time This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter and Cassandra make their way forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos, comments, and overall views! They're very very appreciated!! :)
> 
> I know my diction isn't really the best so if you have any ideas on how to improve or if something i've written sounds wrong please do tell me! Even for simple things like grammar! This is my first fanfic and while I've read a lot of other peoples' works I'm having trouble translating my thoughts to words in an interesting fashion haha. Hopefully I'll get better as I write more

If she thought it was cold before it’s nothing in comparison to what she feels now. It’s hard to focus too much on it though, the massive green hole that fills the sky takes most of her attention. Vaguely she sees that the sun is out as well, even if it's fairly hidden that light source is obvious. That means Daybreak. The Hunt is over then? But that doesn’t sound right. Nothing in this situation has sounded right for an alarmingly long time. Her head feels heavy, she isn’t used to being this confused for this long. 

This isn’t Yharnam. It isn’t Cainhurst. Is she still even in the dream anymore?

“We call it the Breach.” Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her stupor.

“It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

She’s referring to the massive green fissure in the sky. She does not know what demons are, but she can infer that they are something that is not wanted.

“An explosion did that?” The Hunter is rather skeptic it’s simple explosives. But stranger things have happened she supposes. She never thought mirrors could function as portals either but that deranged idiot in a cage hat proved her wrong. 

“This one did. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

An end of the world scenario? Now this is more familiar territory. Regardless, The Hunter was trapped before in fixing a world without all the pertinent information provided to her upfront. She has no desire to repeat it again in an even more foreign land than the one she just left.

She thinks of a way to slip out of her captor’s reach and see if she still has access to her weapons but all those thoughts vanish as the sky groans and heaves itself open even more. Her hand shudders, the pain coming through in pulsing bursts. She falls to the ground with only a heavy breath wheezing out of her. She’s not a stranger to pain but with beasts it’s better to stay silent even in agony. Best not to draw more to the fray after all. 

Cassandra approaches The Hunter and kneels as she reels on the snowy ground, her hand twitching with her face buried in the snow.

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.”

“You say it may be the key to stopping this. To stopping what exactly?” The Hunter manages to sputter out, words slightly muffled by the snow.

“To stopping the Breach, to closing it permanently. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

The Hunter tries to stand once more, difficult with her hands still bound in rope. Cassandra, presumably feeling pity or annoyance, hauls her up to her feet. Briefly The Hunter looks at her captor. She could be lying of course, but it would make sense. They didn’t kill her because they needed her to deal with the Breach. But dealing with it may also kill her. Possibly. But if she’s dying anyway…Well, whatever the case, she can’t run now. Lie or not, each time the sky expands, her hand cripples her. That much is true. Even if she ran she wouldn’t make it five steps without smashing into the ground in pain again. But before she agrees to anything she’d like to know exactly what they think she did here.

“You still think I did this?” She punctuates the last word by trying to gesture with one hand to the sky. It’s still tied to the other and all she does is manage to almost unbalance herself. “To myself?”

Cassandra thankfully either doesn’t notice the failed attempt or doesn’t feel it necessary to mention it. 

“Not intentionally. Something clearly went wrong.” She crosses her arms.

“Well, what if I’m not responsible? I don’t think I did whatever this is!” 

“Someone is, and you are our only suspect. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.”

The Hunter makes a face at that. How lovely that her captors get to make the rules on what counts as innocent. This may not even work. This may even kill her. 

“Do you even know if doing this is going to kill me?” She has given up trying not to sound angry. It hasn’t even been 10 minutes and she’s almost out of patience. 

“We have no way of knowing if it will kill you or not.” Cassandra's face does not change is she informs her of her maybe possible death.

“So I don’t actually have a choice then.” 

At this, Cassandra’s face looks somber, if only slightly, before she schools it back to her neutral, slightly aggressive one. 

“None of us has a choice.” 

Cassandra turns from her and walks forward. The Hunter hesitates slightly before sighing and trudging behind her. Even when she became a Hunter she didn’t get screwed over this badly. 

\-------------

As she walks with her captor, they reach a sort of camp with people. People who are not huddled in dark corners or dragging their soon to beastial carcasses around looking for things to kill. For a brief second The Hunter feels joy that there is peace here, but as she gets closer the familiar sight of angry shifty eyes makes itself visible. 

Beasts don’t have the personified hate people do. When one attacks you, it’s not out of active hate or malice, but a primal need for flesh and blood. Horrible as it is, it isn’t personal. Here however? It feels very personal. 

Cassandra seems to notice the glares, or perhaps just the way The Hunter is reacting to them. She begins to explain as they keep walking towards what appear to be gates.

“They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

A good portion of those words don’t register as familiar. But the core concepts of two groups of people at war with a mediator is easy to grasp. Perhaps if Cainhurst and Yharnam had something like this, things might have been different. Or maybe they did have something similar and it ended with the mediator dying in the same way this one did? Either way, she doesn’t quite agree with being made the scapegoat just because she has the gall to… not be dead? She’s not sure still. Not real point in asking either way.

They reach the gates, and the Soldiers open them as Cassandra’s command. She turns back to face The Hunter and begins to speak, 

“We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed.”

She pulls a dagger and reaches for The Hunter’s bound hands.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” Cassandra states, as she cuts the ropes and frees her hands. 

As she grabs her green hand to rotate her numb wrist, The Hunter sees Cassandra nod lightly before she speaks again.

“Come. It is not far.”

“The Breach seems pretty far?” The Hunter can only be told so many lies at one time. Pace yourself Cassandra.

But Cassandra does not look back as she advances forward, “No. Not the Breach. Your mark must be tested on something smaller than that.”


	3. Do Viscerals Work on Demons?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter vs a couple of shades. Cassandra is there too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to finish an extra chapter today as well haha. So double update today! I don't have a schedule so I can't say when the next update is, sorry
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

The snow here seems deeper than Cainhurst’s. This is annoying until The Hunter remembers all the horrible starving leeches that mauled her as soon as she got there. 

For all the horrible accusations, she’s yet to see anything like that so that’s at least one good thing. 

Sadly, it seems to be the only good thing. They reach the gates and she smells it. The cold masks it slightly, but a Hunter’s nose is rather attuned to blood and decay. There’s plenty of it here. The air is empty of noise, save what seems to be some religious chanting from a few parties. Whatever they seem to be reciting is unfamiliar, but the tone and garbs remind her of Amelia again, and strangely enough, of Alfred. 

Praise the good blood indeed.

The Hunter averts her gaze and keeping following Cassandra.

They get past the second set of gates with minimal fuss, and finally The Hunter thinks to check if she can access anything from her armory. The Dream made it easy to reach and store all her equipment on her person without it physically being on her. Grasping internally she is very relived to still have that be the case. She won’t pull out a weapon just yet, but it’s nice to know she can if she has to. 

Abruptly, her hand spasms again and pain erupts. The pain is more aggressive this time and it startles a yowl from her before she pitches forward into the snow once more.

“The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.” Cassandra helps her up again as she explains.

She feeling woozy on her feet, The Hunter asks, ”Don’t suppose you know how it is I actually survived the explosion that made that?”

Cassandra gently pushes her forward to get her moving again as she answers. 

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

Shuffling forward, The Hunter sincerely hopes that she’ll get an explanation soon that doesn’t just lead to more questions than answers. She remembers none of that.

They reach a bridge soon after, it may possibly be the second bridge she’s crossed today but The Hunter is still rather out of it to really remember. This one makes an impression however, as a meteor slams into it as soon as they reach it and shatters it completely.

The Hunter tumbles down until her back painfully makes contact with the frozen ground below. Cassandra lands next to her not long after with a grunt.

The Hunter briefly looks up to see the Breach spit out another bright green meteor that careens into the frozen body of water they landed on. A dark shadow slithers out of the resulting crash.   
It looks nothing like a normal beast, but it resembles a Brainsucker, only vaguely in its shape. 

Cassandra sees it too as she holds a hand behind her and yells, “Stay behind me!”

Her sword is drawn as she rushes forward, and she tears it through the creature’s form with precision and power. The Hunter feels momentary relief until she sees another one of the creatures haul itself out of the green shadows in front of her.

The Hunter glances at Cassandra. She’s still fighting the first one, there’s no way she’ll be able to defend The Hunter. No matter, she thinks, this is familiar territory. She reaches inward and pulls out the threaded cane she received so long ago. Its weight feels so familiar in her hand and for all the ways she’s felt helpless thus far, just holding this makes her remember just what she can do.

The cane snaps open as it elongates into a metal whip and The Hunter strikes the creature with it like a snake slamming itself into a small rodent. Whether from the force or pain, the creature roils back, shrieking all the while. The Hunter doesn’t let up, this thing seems to be incapable of getting close to her so long as she strikes it with the whip. It’s still taking too long. She reaches for her Evelyn pistol, pulling the trigger and causing a blood bullet to bury itself in the creature’s ghoulish body. It staggers forward, almost onto its knees, and she goes in for the kill. 

Tearing her hand through its body she feels a familiar and comforting high come back. Its body thrashes in her grip and she revels in it briefly before she wrenches her hand out and it collapses to the floor. Before it can haul itself up, The Hunter pulls back her cane and slams it down on its prone body. Twice. Hard. A brief death rattle later and its corpse sinks into the ground. 

Satisfied, she looks over to Cassandra, who seems to be fighting two of the shadow creatures now. The Hunter rushes forward, briefly stopping to use her Evelyn to stagger one of the creatures before it can claw Cassandra’s back. Its shriek gives her companion time to roll out of the way and both creatures' claws miss. The Hunter tricks the cane back into its regular form and slams it down in the first shadow she reaches. It feels like hitting a bag of sand. Hollow yet heavy.

The creature turns around and tears its claws into The Hunter's side before she can react. She feels vaguely embarrassed that she goes down again but at least it isn’t face-first into the snow like the last two times. 

Before a the creature can get another strike in she tricks her cane again and whips it decisively into its face. It seems quite effective as it staggers back. She surges forward again and tears her hand through its semi-corporeal body. It gurgles slightly before The Hunter jerks her hand out of it and it disappears into the ground. 

Cassandra tears her sword out of the shadow she’s fighting and the ground swallows its corpse as well. Finally it’s over. She turns to Cassandra sighing slightly before she begins to speak.

“Hey good job on killing…whatever that wa-“

“What did you just do?!” The Hunter’s attempts at camaraderie with her captor are interrupted by said captor brandishing a sword at her. She’s rather confused.

“Helped you not die? Was I not supposed to?” The Hunter replies dryly. 

“Your hand…it tore right through the Shade’s body! Solas said you weren’t a mage!” If anything Cassandra seems more unnerved by her answer.

The Hunter isn’t too smart but it’s obvious she can’t be truthful about a good deal of things. If Cassandra is so bewildered by a simple visceral attack its best to down play a good portion of the things she considers normal. She needs to remember she's being blamed for a good deal of bad things. Cassandra may have gotten nicer but its likely she's still thought of as a prisoner and not a friend. She gathers her thoughts briefly before stammering out,

“That’s just…normal for me. It’s normal for all…people of my...profession back home.” She’s not the best at lying, but in her defense she’s never really had to before. Not on this big of a scale anyways. 

Cassandra arches a brow. She’s not impressed. Her sword's still pointed at The Hunter.

“It’s a taught technique? It’s hard to really explain…” She tries again, trying to retain eye contact. But ultimately failing. Why is this so difficult? 

“Fine. Keep your secrets for now. But drop your weapons.”

The Hunter’s moment of relief is cut drastically short as Cassandra finishes speaking.

“What? No! I need them!” 

“You don’t need to fight.” Cassandra grinds out.

“Well, what if we get attacked again?” The Hunter is absolutely arguing against this. Well, her actual argument is that these are her weapons and she won't be dropping them anywhere, thank you very much, but the words she’s actually saying aren’t incorrect either. 

A long moment passes and Cassandra sighs out, “You’re right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”

She puts her sword down from her previously aggressive stance.

“I should remember you did not attempt to run.”

Cassandra reaches into a small pack and pulls out two glass containers full of a very vivid red liquid and offers them to The Hunter. “Take these potions. Maker knows what we will face.”

The Hunter eyes the liquid. Too bright to be blood, it smells wrong too. She doesn’t need these, she still has at least 20 blood vials still. But a gift is a gift, and these might do something good for her in the future, even if they aren’t blood. She tucks them securely into a side pouch. They don't want to fit into her internal inventory for some reason. She'll think on what that means later.

She ventures to ask, “Is it just us doing this then?” 

“Yes, we are on our own, for now. Everyone else is up ahead, fighting or in the forward camp. We should make haste.”

The Hunter nods and follows Cassandra is she makes her way forward across the ice. She tucks her Evelyn back into its place and looks down at her hand. She’s used to blood coating it during hunts. This is the first time in a while she’s come out completely clean. It’s a strangely disappointing feeling.


	4. Two New Companions and some Exposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter meets Solas and Varric, some things are clarified, it's still very cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Some things happened that made it harder to write this properly haha
> 
> On that note though, how do you guys feel about me possibly changing the viewpoint of this story from 3rd person to 2nd person? Basically from "The Hunter did this" to "You did this"? I've been going over it and I think perhaps changing it to 2nd person might allow me more flexibility in being able to write feelings without it coming off too weird. Part of the delay was mostly from me not knowing how to phrase things properly, I feel like 2nd person might be less challenging in that regard? What do you guys think?
> 
> I'll make the decision by the next chapter, which will hopefully be published soon, but I'm very willing to hear your opinions on this!

Cassandra called them Shades. A form of demon, born from something called the Fade. 

The Hunter has resigned herself to the fact that with every new piece of information comes one answer and at least two more questions. In the end, whatever information she’s missing is unimportant. Shades die just as easily as beasts it seems. 

The Hunter and Cassandra run into a number of them, including a green variant Cassandra refers to as a “Wraith”. It’s slightly bulkier but equally as vulnerable to viscerals and a good cane beating as their lesser variants. Cassandra still seems uncomfortable with The Hunter's...methods of dispatching, but it does a quick enough job that The Hunter figures she's willing to delay whatever conversation she wants to have about it till later. 

Eventually they manage to find actual stairs, miraculously enough. The Hunter is grateful for the opportunity to not fall on her face every 5 steps. Cainhurst had plenty of snow but all this ice is new. Ice is a bitch.

As they climb, the sounds of a fray reach her ears and not long after Cassandra yells out, “We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”

“More of your soldiers?” The Hunter guessed. Just how many people are here? Just the corpses alone outnumber all the living Yharnamites she’s ever seen. 

“Not quite. You’ll see soon. We must help them.”

They reach the top of the stairwell. The stairs, while not as slippery as the ice, were still quite a feat but The Hunter managed all 60 without falling once. Small victories.

More fire and stone, until they reach the source of all the yelling and clashing metal. The shades here seem to leak right out of the small green tear right next to the soldiers. Despite its use, The Hunter knows better than to use a visceral again in front of these people. Cassandra’s sharp sword in her face is all reminder she needs. She doesn’t need to use it really. Despite their poor armor, with her and Cassandra’s help they manage to hold off the shades quite well. 

What’s most impressive is the bald man who manages to use a set of arcane abilities she hasn’t seen outside the Celestial Emissaries and other kin blooded creatures. Even with his pointed ears, he looks too human to match either category. Without him, The Hunter doesn't doubt it would have taken much longer, especially without her viscerals.

If turning an entire creature to ice is something that she can learn just as easily as she learned 'A Call Beyond' this whole bullshit day might just be worth it. The Hunter privately resolves to get on this man's good side in the hopes he shares this technique.

Not even a second after this thought, said man grabs her hand and shoves it roughly against the small green pocket in the middle of the group as he yells out.

“Quickly, before more come through!”

Something in The Hunter’s cursed hand reacts very strongly with the portal before her. It feels like she’s pulling back a tether that’s retaliating by pulling back on all the liquid in her body. After it closes, it leaves her feeling oddly aware of every inch of blood churning inside her. The howling of a sea encased inside her own body. Like a storm…but also like the rain, only gentle like dripping water. Like Adeline. Ugh no. Snap out of it.

She tears her hand back, eyes the man who closed the portal, and asks, “What did you do?”

He smiles back, polite and reserved, as he answers her, “I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

That doesn’t sound quite right, but technically it was her hand she supposes. She raises it up and gestures to it as she speaks, “You mean this thing?”

The man nods. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake” He lifts his head ever so slightly, almost in triumph, before continuing, “and it seems I was correct.”

Cassandra eyes The Hunter’s hand briefly before turning her head towards the bald arcanist and saying, “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.”

“Possibly.” He responds to her before turning his attention back to The Hunter and addressing her. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” 

The Hunter frowns. She assumed this herself but hearing it spoken aloud somehow manages to make her more uneasy than before. Salvation? What is she even supposed to say to that? 

The short man with the crossbow who had helped disperse the shades interrupts her train of thought, jovially stating, “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”  
He approaches The Hunter amiably before introducing himself.

“Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” Varric punctuates the last line by winking at Cassandra, who scowls in return.

The Hunter takes his hand and thinks briefly to introduce herself. But she’s been The Hunter for so long she can’t recall being anything else. Instead she smiles and responds in what she hopes is a friendly tone.

“Nice to meet you Varric”

“You may reconsider that stance, in time.” The bald man says, rather cryptically. 

Varric eyes the man briefly before dramatically drawling out, “Aww. I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

Cassandra looks briefly startled before replying, “Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.” He replies. The Hunter rather agrees with Varric. The more people together, the easier it would be going anywhere.

Cassandra seems to agree as well, though is exceptionally reluctant to admit so. She just gives out a frustrated grunt and calls it a day.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live.” The bald man looks at The Hunter with a relaxed and polite smile, inclining his head downwards ever so slightly.

Varric looks The Hunter in the eye before pointing out, “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'”

Oh, well, she owes him quite a lot for that doesn’t she? This may not be Yharnam, but The Hunter imagines that someone saving your live carries the same debt here. She angles towards Solas before replying, “Thank you, I won’t forget that.”

“Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.” He replies.

She snorts. He's not wrong.

The Hunter angles her hand towards her and examines it. Perhaps since Solas saved her, he’ll know more about what this is? Can’t hurt to ask. So she does.

“How do you know all this about the Breach and my hand?”

Cassandra answers for him. “Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters.”

Solas adds on, “Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

That last sentence catches The Hunter’s attention. Regardless of origin? How much does he know about her? Or is this a general blanket statement? Well. He’s not wrong, the big green problem in the sky is indeed every person’s dilemma until it's gone. 

“And what will you do once this is all over?”, she prompts. She hopes the underlying question of what will happen to her as well is something he catches on.

“One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not.” He replies. 

She grimaces slightly. Well that answers that. He doesn’t know what’ll happen either. The Hunter is trying to be optimistic that she won’t be burned at the stake like a common Werewolf but only time will tell.

Solas turns towards their other companions before continuing, “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

Cassandra side-eyes The Hunter briefly in a way that makes The Hunter mildly squirmy. There’s no doubt Cassandra remembers the visceral attacks she performed, rather frequently and gleefully. Solas isn’t wrong, it technically isn’t magic. The Hunter rather hopes that it isn’t brought up.

Cassandra, thankfully, simply replies, “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

She starts moving forward with Solas, leaving Varric and The Hunter to follow.

Varric seems pumped, “Well, Bianca’s excited!”

Cassandra calls back, “This way, down the bank. The road ahead is blocked.”

“We must move quickly.” Solas adds on.

The Hunter catches up quick enough, she hopes it isn’t much longer. She liked Cainhurst but the more she spends time on….whatever place this is, the more she realizes that Cainhurt lacked the severe frigid wind and uneven terrain this place does. All she has is her gloves for extended warmth and it isn’t pleasant.


End file.
